Too Much, Too Late
by MuggleRavenclaw
Summary: PARODY of fanfiction, with as many overused cliches as possible. Why would goblins be nice to Harry and Harry alone? What exactly does a Soul Bond DO? Are the Potters REALLY the most powerful family in Britain? Due to popular demand (like, maybe 2 people asked for it), Chapter 2 has been added.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: You don't have to read this. Really. Nothing to see here. Go read something by Chem Prof and run away screaming from this utterly foolish piece of writing.

A/N 2: Ok, you ignored my warning and insist on reading the rest of this. You should know that this is a PARODY of other fanfictions that I have read. Consequently, it has as many fanfiction cliches as I could fit in this limited space. Obviously, it doesn't have all of them, but I hope it will be enough to make someone crack a smile. This is my first HP fanfic and my second overall, so I would really appreciate any feedback... if you make it to the end.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If you thought I did, maybe you should stop staring at that screen for a few hours and go get some fresh air.

* * *

Too Much, Too Late

_Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell. _- _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

There was a moment of total silence in the Great Hall, as everyone stared at the corpse, seemingly unable to believe that it was over. Suddenly, to his shock, Harry felt himself falling as he was bowled over by an ecstatic bushy-haired witch. They landed together; staring into each other's eyes from bare centimeters away. Harry impulsively leaned up and planted his lips on hers. It was meant as a "thank you" more than anything else, much like Hermione's earlier kiss with Ron. The instant their mouths made contact, though, a golden light shone around the pair. A pulse of magic strong enough to knock everyone off their feet originated from them and surged outward, rapidly travelling across all of Great Britain. In shock, they broke apart and stared.

_What the bloody hell was THAT?_

"Language, Harry." Hermione responded automatically, not realizing that Harry hadn't actually spoken.

_How did she hear that? What is going on?_

"What do you mean, how did I hear that? Didn't you say something?" Hermione queried.

"Um, no," Harry replied, "I just thought it."

Her eyes wide, Hermione thought, _Harry? Can you hear this?_

"'Course I can, Mione. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh dear. Harry, I think we are Soul Bonded. It means that we are the perfect fit for each other in _every_ way." Hermione blushed as she put emphasis on the word 'every'. "We can hear each other's thoughts, feel each other's emotions, and share out magical abilities. If one of us dies, the other will soon follow. Essentially, we just became the same person in two bodies."

Harry beamed, "Really? So does this mean we are married! Awesome!"

As Hermione kissed her newly minted husband, she could vaguely hear a side character named Ginny screaming somewhere in the back of the crowd.

Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall burst open, revealing a veritable army of goblins. They were led by a goblin that stood at least a head taller than the rest (which meant that he came up almost to Harry's chin). This goblin, clad entirely in gold armor – even though gold is notoriously soft and is terrible for protection – marched directly up to Harry and bowed to him, much to the shock of everyone around. "Well met, Lord Potter! I am Ragnok, the Director of Gringotts Bank and leader of the Goblin Horde. A goblin of my station has not spoken to a wizard in over three centuries, but I felt that it was necessary to leave my stronghold to deliver this Very Important Letter to you!"

By this point, Harry was completely shell-shocked. His hand trembled as he accepted the roll of parchment and cracked the seal. Inside, the parchment was filled with mostly legal jargon that Harry had no hope of understanding, so he passed the letter to Hermione without a word.

Her eyes narrowed as she read through the missive, instantly understanding concepts that she had no previous exposure to. "Harry, this can't be right. This letter says that as the Head of Houses Potter and Black, you are eligible to be tested for the lines of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Merlin, Gandalf, Morgana, Medea, and Saruman. Some of those aren't even real people!"

Ragnok butted in, "Unfortunately, you are correct, Miss Granger. That is why, when we tested Harry for the various family lines (we assumed he wouldn't mind), he only came back positive for seven of the nine. Harry, you now hold the title 'Lord Potter-Black-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff-Slytherin-Merlin-Morgana-Medea.' The last three did not have last names, so you must use their first names instead. Basically, this makes you King of the wizarding world."

Harry only had one question. "Am I rich?"

Ragnok threw back his head and laughed gutturally, "Are you rich? Harry, your bank account balance right now is so long that the parchment couldn't hold all the numbers. You have infinity galleons. You literally cannot ever run out of money."

"What else does this do for him?" interjected Hermione, twisting her fingers with Harry's.

"As the Founders' Heir, Harry owns Hogwarts, and most of Hogsmeade. The combined Wizengamot seats controlled by all the families gives him 68% of the vote, just enough to force any legislation past all vetoes. The Merlin name gives him control of Diagon Alley, while the Morgana name gives him Knockturn Alley. Harry literally owns wizarding Britain." His job complete, Ragnok turned on his heel and marched out of the room, followed by the goblin army.

"I… I think I need to sit down," said Harry. As he practically fell to the floor, another surge of golden magic filled his body. As Hermione backed away in horror, Harry rose off the ground and began to scream. Levitating parallel to the ground, but about four feet above it, Harry began to change before their very eyes. Still screaming, he began to grow taller, broader, and stronger. His glasses fell off and shattered on the floor. His hair was growing longer, and was about at shoulder length when the screaming and the golden light suddenly stopped. With a loud "oof!" Harry fell to the ground. Concerned for her husband, Hermione instantly rushed forward to help.

"Are you all right?" she squealed frantically. Harry slowly sat up with her help as she got a good look at him. Her best friend the boy had been replaced with her best friend the _man_. Hermione considered herself lucky that she was already on the ground, because her knees suddenly felt very weak. Harry's glasses were gone, allowing those deep emerald pools to draw her in to the fullest extent. His ebony locks now hung around his shoulder, which for some unexplained reason was 'cool'. His shoulders were broad (undoubtedly from all that Quidditch), and she could tell that he now stood at least a head taller than her. All in all, Harry was simply gorgeous.

Not noticing the effect he was having on his female companion, Harry gazed into her eyes. "I feel… stronger. Not just physically, but magically, and maybe mentally. Before this happened, I was exhausted from all the fighting. Now, I feel like I could do ten times what I just did without breaking a sweat!" he said.

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, Harry. Your magical core must have been blocked! You only had access to a fraction of your full potential all this time!"

As Harry tried to process all the events of the last ten minutes, one thought kept pushing to the front of his mind. All the pain, struggle, and death caused by Voldemort would have been _so easy_ to prevent with all his newfound magical, political, and financial power, not to mention the power of love that was strengthened by his love for Hermione. As he gazed at the body of his erstwhile nemesis, a shadow swirled up from the floor and coalesced into a vaguely human shape. The being was ten feet tall, shrouded by a pitch black cloak, and carried a scythe. Kneeling before Harry, the creature intoned, "Master, I am Death. As master of my Hallows, you may command me anything and I will be compelled to obey. Is there anyone you want dead? I can take care of that instantly if you so desire."

"SERIOUSLY?!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any claim to own Harry Potter or any of the associated characters. The Harry Potter universe is the property of Joanne Rowling, also known as "J. K. Rowling," "JKR," and "That Lady Who Wrote Harry Potter." The Harry Potter universe is licensed with Warner Brothers Studios and Bloomsbury Publishing. I do not make any profit off of Harry Potter, because if I did then these kind people I have named above would hunt me down and throw me in Azkaban for 12 years or life. That is all.

* * *

Too Much, Too Late

Chapter 2

"SERIOUSLY?!"

Harry Potter was angry. In fact, he had probably never been more angry in his entire (admittedly very frustrating) life. Here he was, with a host of new abilities, untold wealth, limitless political power, and a smoking hot new wife/girlfriend/thingy. Under normal circumstances, this would be a reason to be happy, or even a bit arrogant. Unfortunately, Harry had very little experience with normal circumstances. (There was that one Tuesday during fifth year – one of Harry's fondest memories – when absolutely nothing unusual occurred.) With the most feared dark wizard in the world lying dead at his feet, these were definitely abnormal circumstances (which, of course was normal to Harry, what with him being so acquainted with abnormality. Oh, bugger it.).

Regardless of whether the current circumstances were classed as normal or abnormal, the fact remained that Harry Potter was angry. Sure, all the new power was nice, but couldn't it have come just a LITTLE BIT SOONER? Like back in fourth year, when Voldemort was weak and everyone was still alive? Why was the universe being so helpful _now_, when he really didn't need it all that much? As the echoes of his shout reverberated around the Great Hall, Harry focused on the most immediate issue: Death itself.

"First, can you bring anyone back to life?" Harry asked the specter kneeling in front of him.

"I can, master, but I must have some piece of their personality in the physical world if they are to remain as more than a specter. Your parents would never be whole here," came the raspy reply.

Harry had seen the specters of his parents, Sirius, and Remus, and knew that bringing them back in that form would only cause misery for everyone. As he began to sink into despair at that thought, Hermione spoke up from his side.

"Harry! We can bring back Dumbledore! His portrait in the Headmaster's office certainly holds a piece of his personality!" Her eyes narrowed. "You could even bring back Snape, if you really wanted to, Harry."

Harry grinned and said, "That's a brilliant idea, Hermione! Now I won't have to name one of our children after them, since they'll still be alive!"

"EXCUSE ME? You were planning on naming–" Hermione cut herself off as she looked around at all the wizards and witches in the Great Hall, staring at them with wide eyes. Molly Weasley appeared to have fainted, and her entire family was surrounding her in concern. "Perhaps we should move this discussion to the Headmaster's office, Harry? It seems a bit crowded in here."

Harry gulped and quickly agreed.

* * *

Once sequestered in the Headmaster's office, Harry immediately turned to Death. "I would like you to bring back Headmasters Dumbledore and Snape, please."

"As you command, my master." With that, Death waved his scythe in a complicated motion, causing twin bursts of smoke and light to erupt from the ground. When Harry and Hermione had finished blinking, Death had disappeared, with two very confused, very naked men in his place.

As Hermione shrieked and preformed her best tomato impression, Dumbledore calmly asked Harry, "I assume you have something to do with this, my boy? I had just boarded the train for the next great adventure when I felt the most curious sensation, not unlike a portkey. The next thing I knew, I was here. Oh, dear, something seems to be wrong with Miss Granger. Perhaps she has been poisoned! Severus, do you have any bezoars handy?"

Snape sneered. "Even if I did, Albus, I wouldn't give one to her. I assume that the Dark Lord is dead, or Potter wouldn't be standing here. If that is true, then you have no further hold on me. Potter, I hope you die alone and unloved." With that, the still-sneering man turned and swept down the staircase. If he had actually been wearing robes at the time, they undoubtedly would have billowed behind him in a most impressive manner. As he was still entirely nude, the effect was ruined somewhat. The other three stood in stunned silence while the sneer master left their presence. Approximately twenty seconds later, they heard a shrill scream, followed quickly by a burst of spellfire and the sound of retching.

His face slightly green, Harry shook himself from his stupor and said, "Headmaster? Could you, um, maybe conjure up a robe or, uh, something? Please? I don't think I can handle this much longer."

"Oh, certainly, my dear boy. My apologies." With that, Dumbledore wandlessly conjured a set of fuchsia robes and mercifully covered himself. Hermione began to gradually return to a more natural color.

While she was recovering, Dumbledore seamlessly slipped behind his desk and began to scheme. _First, I need to dose them with my potion-laced lemon drops. Then I can use Miss Granger to control Harry and rule the wizarding world!_ He looked up at the pair and turned his eye-twinkling up to maximum. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

Just then, the four Hogwarts House Ghosts drifted up through the floor. "Wait, Lord Potter-Black-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff-Slytherin-Merlin-Morgana-Medea! It's a trap! Those lemon drops are poisoned, and the dastardly Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore has been manipulating you the entire time!" Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was rather fond of large names.

Hermione looked at the former Headmaster in consternation. "Is this true, sir? Have you meant for all this to happen?"

Dumbledore glared at the ghosts and snapped his reply, "Of course, you foolish girl! Harry's entire life has been orchestrated by me, and now it is time to end it once and for all!" Quick as a flash, Dumbledore reached for his wand, only to discover that Harry was aiming it at his face.

"Looking for this, Dumbledork?" he spat. _Hey, I quite like that name. I'm really clever to come up with something like that all on my own! _

"Now, Harry, there is no need for violence. I only did the things I did for the Greater – _urk_!"

Stunned, Hermione stared at the Bloody Baron cleaning his axe. "Oh, I'm so glad that a Founders' Heir is here again and we can finally interact with the physical world. I've wanted to do that for decades. Hey, Nick, looks like there may be another ghost joining the Headless Hunt without you!" the grim ghost muttered.

Now thoroughly green, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her towards the moving staircase.

* * *

As they exited into the hallway, Harry and Hermione found themselves faced with a rather peculiar situation. No fewer than seventeen young ladies flinched and pointed their wands at them, before quickly sighing in relief as they relaxed their defenses. Susan Bones smiled shakily at them as she said, "Sorry guys, but we are all a little on edge right now. Not five minutes ago, Professor Snape came sneering down that staircase – TOTALLY NAKED. Naturally, we assumed that our collective virtues were in danger, and… dealt with the situation."

"She means that Snape is now that slightly darker spot on the wall behind you!" Katie Bell put in helpfully.

Harry glanced back at the greasy bit of wall. _Is that wall sneering at me? How is that even possible?_ Shrugging it off, he turned back to the girls. "Er, great job with that, ladies, but why exactly are you here right now? Shouldn't you all be with your families?"

Instantly the atmosphere of the hallway became almost… sultry. Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Cho Chang, Mandy Brocklehurst, Su Li, Lisa Turpin, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Megan Jones, Millicent Bulstrode (shudder), Pansy Parkinson, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass all suddenly began to chew their lip seductively, bat their eyelashes, or find a need to bend over at the waist to tie their shoes. "Well, you see, Harry, you might be able to help with that family thing. If you agree, some of us might be with our family right this instant," Daphne purred.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "And what, exactly, do you mean by that, Miss Greengrass?"

"Why, Lady Potter, nothing untoward, I assure you. It simply seems that Lord Potter-Black-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff-Slytherin-Merlin-Morgana-Medea here has nine families that he needs to produce an heir for. You have the Potter slot, of course, but Harry here has room for eight more wives if he so chooses. We all want to make our candidacy known."

"And why would I agree to that?" Hermione screeched.

Lavender took this one. "But Hermione, multiple marriages are common in the wizarding world, despite the fact that they have never even been slightly hinted at through all seven years of your education. Naturally, we assumed that you would accept this relatively easily. Maybe you are secretly a bisexual, I don't know. Regardless, there is no reason at all why your middle class heritage and the culture you were raised in should hold you back from this. Besides, don't you want Harry to be happy? What could make a teenaged boy happier than nine women in his bed? Now come, darling, let us all go and make sweet love until we lose consciousness."

Harry's green pallor had returned full force. _Nine women? No way! Think of the stress! There is no way I could satisfy nine women at once! Besides, _he gulped, _it would pretty much guarantee that at least one of them would be on 'that time of the month' ALL THE TIME._ That last thought made his decision quite clear. Harry grabbed a still-spluttering Hermione by the hand and ran frantically back to the relative safety of the Great Hall. As he ran he called over his shoulder to the bewildered group of girls, "Thanks, but no thanks! I'm happy as I am!"

* * *

The newly minted Man-Who-Won skidded in to the Great Hall with his soul mate and slammed the massive doors behind them. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, though, he caught sight of what appeared to be a small natural disaster heading his way. In reality, it was an irate Ron, Ginny, and Molly Weasley, but his confusion is quite understandable.

"HARRY POTTER! JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK –" Molly's rant was quickly cut off by a silencing spell from her husband.

"Look, Harry," Arthur sighed, "let's just assume that she disagrees with something you have done in the past hour, and informed you of her opinion many times at high volume. Shall we?"

"That works for me, Mr. Weasley. I'll consider myself duly chastened." Harry nodded solemnly.

"Very good. Come on, Mollywobbles, let's go take care of Ginny. George and Bill seem to have stunned her." With that, the poor man led his red-faced wife over to another corner of the room.

This left the Golden Trio alone. Hermione looked questioningly from Ron to Harry and back again, but the two boys seemed to be in some sort of staring contest waiting to see who would break first. The brightest witch of her age sighed and settled in to wait them out. Exactly thirteen seconds later (patience wasn't his strong suit), Ron burst.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, mate?! I mean, bloody hell, you could have had any girl in the world, but you had to bloody go and bloody take Hermione! Bloody hell! You always get everything I want. Fame? Check, bloody hell. Money? Check. Quidditch? Check, bloody hell. Women? Check. Bloody hell, mate, all I wanted was Hermione! Bloody hell." His ire spent, Ron sagged into himself.

Hermione took it upon herself to transfix Ron with one of her special Category Five Looks (patent pending). "Ronald Bilius Weasley! First of all, your language is horrific. I don't think I've ever heard you say 'bloody hell' that much through our whole time at Hogwarts. Second, you seem to have forgotten that Harry would gladly trade all his fame, fortune, fans, and Quidditch for a chance to have his family back. Besides, I am not some trophy to be won! I can make my own decisions about who I want to be with, thank you very much."

Harry muttered under his breath, "Well, maybe not the Quidditch, but he can have everything else."

Hermione shot him a glare that made the Man-Who-Won, Saviour of the Wizarding World, and Defeater of Voldemort quail instantly.

"Regardless," she said as she turned back to a gaping Ron, "if that is your attitude, then perhaps we don't need your friendship anymore. Come on, Harry, we are leaving." With that, Lord and Lady Potter-Black-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff-Slytherin-Merlin-Morgana-Medea left the Great Hall. Five years later, they left the Wizarding World for good.

* * *

Epilogue: approximately 5,000 years later.

Harry Potter was feeling good. He and his lovely wife had just been visited by one of their descendants, a very polite young man who had just been elected Emporer of the 2nd New Roman Empire. As he watched the whippersnapper climb down their mountain, Harry reflected back on his life. For a few years after he defeated Voldemort, he and Hermione had traveled the world, living off of his infinity galleons. Eventually, they (Hermione) had gotten bored with this and started looking for a new challenge. Harry had started crafting spells. Hermione had taken up alchemy. Twenty five years after that, Hermione had finally created a Philosopher's Stone. Unfortunately, the Stone was keyed to its creator and her spouse, so they could not share the Elixir of Life with any of their several children and dozens of grandchildren. Although this was terribly sad at first, it soon became a good thing. By the time the Potter family had reached its sixth generation under Harry, he and Hermione had hundreds of grandchildren (which they called all of their descendants, since it saved them from listing out all that 'great-great-great' nonsense). The pair lived for thousands of years, learning, growing, and watching their family make its mark on the world. The scar had not pained Harry for four thousand, nine hundred, and seventy three years. All was well.

A/N: I intended to leave this as a oneshot, but then I got several reviews within half an hour of posting asking me to continue. Since I've never actually gotten any reviews before, I got excited and wrote this. I made myself wait a couple of days and look over it before posting, so it is a bit more polished than it might have been.

A/N2: I tried to write a scene with Luna, but I found I couldn't! Luna is too wonderfully wacky to write a parody of. Anything I wrote, no matter how ridiculous, fit my mental image of Luna. Gosh, I love that character so much.

A/N3: For whatever reason, my section dividers did not appear with the first posting. I have fixed that problem, so hopefully this chapter wasn't quite as choppy.


End file.
